


A Small Glimmer of Hope

by Icecat62



Category: due South
Genre: 911, Challenge Response, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icecat62/pseuds/Icecat62
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is in response to Dil's word of the month challenge - Hope. I don't know how anyone will react to this. I'm writing I think to help me think things over. To work all of this out in my own mind. If you are offended by a fic using the topic of the WTC atrocities, please don't read any further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Small Glimmer of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to RedSuitsYou@egroups.com - November 2001.

Francesca sat in the pew, staring up at the stained glass windows, her eyes not really seeing the beautiful patterns rendered by an artist years ago. Her hands nervously twisted the handkerchief that she had held tightly throughout the memorial service. 

She couldn't believe it had happened. Why? Why did they do it? So many people. They had nothing to do with what was going on. Why? 

Her eyes caught a movement at the front of the church. She looked over and saw Fraser talking to Father Behan, their voices low, their expressions somber. Normally  
she would have been drooling over him, but now...she felt empty. Dead. Dead like her cousin Joannie. 

She closed her eyes as the tears began to well up. All she could see was Joannie's face. Happy and smiling. She was so young. Fresh out of college, she had started her first job in New York City. She had been so excited when she had called Francesca only a few weeks ago. So proud of her job with the stock firm that had been impressed with her enough to hire her before she had even graduated. 

Francesca could still hear her voice as she described the spectacular view from her cubicle. She was on the one hundredth floor of one of the World Trade Center towers and from there she could see what she called the greatest city on the planet. 

Francesca remembered laughing at her comments. When ever she had gone to  
New York, all she saw were dingy streets and the run down neighborhoods that her relatives lived in. Sure she had visited the sites, but they hadn't impressed her the way they had Joannie. 

Joannie on the other hand was adamant about New York. She loved the city and never regretted moving there. She promised Francesca that when she came to visit again, she would show her the vision she saw every day from work, then maybe she'd change her mind. How could she not be impressed when her office was in the clouds, high enough to touch the angels. 

Francesca fought to keep the bile from coming up her throat. She was supposed to have made that trip next month. She would have been in that place. What if all of this hadn't happened yet? How would she have reacted if she were the one trapped in that horror? 

The tears that she had tried to hold in check ran freely down her face. All she could think of was Joannie. How had she died? She prayed that it had been quick. Maybe she had been on one of the floors where the plane hit. Maybe she never even knew what had happened. Then the horrible thoughts crept in. What if she were one of the ones trapped above the flames and smoke? 

She felt a presence above her. Looking up, she wiped the handkerchief across her face, trying to hide how she felt, knowing she failed miserably. Fraser stood above her, his expression sad and sympathetic. 

"May I?" He indicated the empty spot next to her. Nodding her head yes, he slid in and sat down beside her. They sat in silence for a few minutes, taking comfort in each other. The need to just be with someone was overwhelming. 

Her hands began working over the handkerchief again as she began speaking.  
"Frase, I don't understand. Why'd they do it? Why'd they kill all those people? Why'd they kill Joannie?" Her voice cracked as she broke down and cried in great heaving sobs. She thought she was done with crying she had done it so much in the past week, but just when she though it was all over she would start again. 

Fraser took her in his arms, holding her against him, slowly rubbing a hand over her back, stroking her hair like he did with one of Maria's children when they were upset. As her sobs slowly died, she felt limp and exhausted. When would she feel happy again? How could she ever be happy again? 

Resting her head on his shoulder, she found her voice. "I keep seeing her ya' know. I have nightmares about...about how she..." 

"Francesca, you have to stop thinking of her like that. Think of Joannie as she was, the way you last saw her." 

She shook her head no. "It's hard Frase. You don't know how hard it is." 

He remained silent. He did know what it was like to lose someone to a murderer, but it wasn't the same. He couldn't quite make himself think that his father's death was the same as those that had died a week ago. His father was an officer of the law. The people in that building were office workers. Husbands and wives, sisters and brothers. They went into the building day after day, week after week, never even giving a thought to things like what had happened. They shouldn't have had to. 

He mentally corrected himself when he thought of the law enforcement officers, the EMTs and paramedics. The firefighters. They knew what they were doing. They knew that with their jobs, they might not make it home. It was something that came with the job, but it didn't lessen the pain of their loss, it only seemed magnified by the horrible way that they had died. Yes, they were doing their duty, but for what? They died because a madman chose to hate a nation far across the world from him. 

"Frase." 

"Yes Francesca?" 

"What if they do that here? What if they target us? There's the Sear's Towers ya' know. They could go after them" She took a deep ragged breath. "God, I'm so scared." She moved her head off his shoulder and looked down at the floor, ashamed of her feelings. Her head snapped back up as Fraser spoke in a quiet voice. 

"I'm afraid too Francesca." 

"You?! You're afraid?" She was a bit shocked to hear him admit that he felt fear just like she did. "But you're not afraid of anything." 

He sighed, then leaned back in the pew, pulling his hands into his lap, clasping them tightly. "Yes, I am afraid. I think of what is yet to come. When will they strike next? How will they implement their strategies? I think about the impending war." 

He looked directly at Francesca. "If there is war and it seems to be a certainty, so many people will be lost. I feel that Canada will surely become involved in one way or another. The repercussions of the things that will happen in the next few months will change the world as we know it." 

Francesca sighed heavily. "The world's already changed. Things will never be the same." Her expression hardened. "I hope they all die. I hope they go in and blow the whole country up!" 

Fraser gave Francesca a look of surprise. He hadn't expected such a harsh reaction from her. "You don't mean that do you?" 

"Yes! I hope they all burn in hell. I hope they all die horrible deaths!" 

He reached over and took one of her hands and held it tightly. "I don't think you really want that. The people over there are just like the people here." 

Francesca tried to pull her hand from his grasp. "I can't believe you! You're defending those animals?!" Her voice rose to a higher pitch, the anger flashed in her eyes. 

Fraser held fast, not letting her go. "Francesca, there are people there just like Joannie. They have nothing to do with the actions of a man in power like that. Can you honestly say you want an entire nation of innocent people to suffer and die like Joannie did, just because of what one small group of people have done?" 

Francesca froze. He was right. There were women and children there who had no idea of what was happening. Then her anger flared again as she thought of the smiling faces of the people celebrating the deaths of the 'evil Americans'. "They all know. I saw them on the television. Fraser they were happy that this happened. They celebrated in the damn streets!" 

Fraser looked directly in her eyes. "Francesca, those people have been told since the day they were born that this country is their enemy. Many of them have no idea, no means of finding out otherwise. You on the other hand know what their lives are like. Unlike you, they are not a free people. Yes, many of them know that they shouldn't rejoice in death, but they can't fight the men in command there. They barely have the resources to survive from day to day. I know in your heart you really don't want them all to die." 

She looked away from him, feeling the hate and anger ebbing. No she shouldn't hate all of them, but it was hard. They took away Joannie. They killed so many people. They also stole her feelings of security and happiness. Never again would she walk in downtown Chicago without looking around her, above her, feeling a sense of apprehension of what could happen. She had seen what those people were capable of and they promised to do it again and again. 

She leaned toward Fraser and wrapped her arms around him. A small glimmer of hope grew in her. She also thought of people like Fraser. People who had stepped up and pitched in to help in this time of need. From the ones who donated blood to the people who gave up their time to go and help with the rescue efforts, she had seen great goodness. 

They sat in silence once more, two people trying to come to terms with the changes in their lives. Both filled with the hope that the innate goodness of people would win out over the ones that chose to take a darker path. 

Finally they stood together and made their way out of the church and back to the Vecchio's home. Life went on. They had jobs to go to, families to care for. And now they had a nation of neighbors who joined with them in prayer and words, hoping just like them, that death and destruction wouldn't ever touch their lives again in this way. 

**********

Please remember all of those who were taken from us. Honor their memory by doing something good. Donate blood, donate your time, donate money to a charity or rescue effort. Don't let the hate of others taint you. Be better than them, because after all we are Americans. A country made up of what the other countries didn't want. That's what makes us stronger. That's what give us the ability to think in larger terms than just 'us' or 'me'. We the people...

END


End file.
